


New Good Things

by Magneticnorth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma Friendship, Canon-Compliant, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Time Skip, kodzuken, they are best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magneticnorth/pseuds/Magneticnorth
Summary: Akaashi sometimes feels like he’s sold his twenties to the feeling of loneliness. That he’s spent up his youth waiting for people to return. He should be used to missing Bokuto by now. He’s been missing him since his graduation. But with that logic, Kenma should be used to missing Hinata. At least for Akaashi, there were trains, weekends, holidays, little spaces in the calendar, and a train track connecting the two of them. For Kenma, there had been an ocean and two long years.Or rather, Akaashi and Kenma both find themselves constantly waiting for other people to return, but while they're waiting, it's good to have a friend who understands.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	New Good Things

Akaashi doesn’t bother to check in beforehand, to ask if he’d be intruding if he stopped by.

No, instead, he leaves work, collects all of his things, wishes Udai a farewell for the weekend. He straightens up his desk so come Monday he won’t return to a half-finished thought process, cut short by the end of the day. He’ll instead return to order, materials to sift through, a fresh beginning. He leaves work and boards the wrong train, the one that takes him in the opposite direction of his apartment.

Kenma isn’t surprised to see him. Or at least, there’s no betrayal of surprise. They’d talked about this, after all. If by talked he meant Kenma mentioning off-hand that they should get together. Akaashi adjusts his shoulder bag, the strap pressing into his arm. He doesn’t say anything when Kenma opens the door, just looks at him. Kenma just gives a resigned sigh, rolls his eyes, and moves aside to let Akaashi pass.

Their schedules are in direct contrast to each other. Akaashi’s job is supposed to be a typical nine-to-five, but early meetings with Udai and late meetings with the editorial staff often elongate it. The patches of time he does have free, the evenings and the weekends, are when Kenma goes live, when he records videos, when he works on his asynchronous classes and schedules board meetings. Their jobs, their lives, are complete opposites of one another. So getting together is a conscious effort. Akaashi puts in some effort. He suspects that Kenma does too.

 _Why come now?_ Kenma asks, as Akaashi makes himself comfortable in one of Kenma’s plush chairs, opening a book across his knees as Kenma fiddles with his computer set up. It’s a good question. They’re not two people who would ever fess to enjoying each other’s company. And they both have other places to turn to. Kenma with his wealth of online connections, his small group of Tokyo-based gamer friends. Akaashi with his old high school classmates, his few college friends, his friendly colleagues. But being with Kenma feels different than being with any of them, it always has, and Akaashi adjusts his position in his chair, folding his thumb over the corner of his book.

It’s a good question.

* * *

The evening has settled in, begging out the night bugs and the fireflies, and Akaashi slips out after practice to jog. He can feel Onaga’s eyes on his back as he leaves, can sense the stagnant tension, but he puts it out of his mind. He somewhat regrets the choice, making Onaga his vice, but he’d never admit that to anyone. The decision was made without a lot of thought, at the expense of the two other third years on the team. They hadn’t been starters the previous year, mostly keeping to themselves, Akaashi hadn’t spared them a thought before asking Onaga about captaincy. Looking back, it was selfish. A desperate attempt to cling to what was gone.

For now, though, he lets himself out of the gymnasium as the rest of the team retires to dinner, or extra practice, or baths, and he begins to run. The oppressive sun has set, leaving an underlying heat that hangs in the air, and so running feels like piercing a veil. Like he’s swimming through a haze. Akaashi has never liked running, but recently, he’s found refuge in it. His mind always too busy, he’d always found running isolating. But now, it stokes a quiet confirmation, gives him an excuse to feel lonely, brings out a feeling more justified than the one harbored around Onaga and the rest of them. He concentrates on the noise of his shoes hitting the asphalt, the sound of the crickets, the light rustle of trees, a distant hoot of an owl, all so overwhelmingly not-Tokyo noises. All noises that make him feel like an alien creature, moving through the world, longing for a planet he recognizes and understands.

He stops after a while, pulls out his phone, and walks the length back to the gym. He checks his phone as he walks, scrolls through the group chat, the one leftover from the year before, with the now-graduated Fukurodani third years. This chat goes off a lot, but Akaashi has silenced it, forbidding himself from checking it during the day. Training camp isn’t for looking back at what was, but looking ahead at what could be. At least, that’s what Coach had told him on the first day. He checks his texts from Bokuto too, responding to the ones he’s sent over the course of the day. Little updates. Something about his part-time job, and the funny sneakers one of the other food runners wears. Something about a cat that lives in the apartment next to his. Something about where he’d been to lunch, something about his teammates. Akaashi had told him he wouldn’t be responding to things like this during the day. But now that it’s night, Akaashi lets himself scroll through the messages, lets himself smile at the phone, lets himself text Bokuto back, lets himself wish that he could go back, to this time last year, when Bokuto was still captain and Akaashi felt invincible.

He lingers outside the main door when he gets back. As if crossing the threshold means he’s to revert back to Captain Akaashi. Captain Akaashi, who is supposed to be level headed, who is supposed to lead, who is supposed to set an example. So he lingers. Out here, he stays on the phone, commenting in the group chat about something Konoha said. He turns off the phone. Turns to press open the door. But it opens before his fingertips can touch it, and all of a sudden he’s face to face with Kozume from Nekoma, hair pulled back into a ponytail, eyes focused ahead as if he’s hunting.

“Pardon me, Kozume-san,” Akaashi says. Kozume from Nekoma looks at him, and Akaashi feels like a mouse, cornered by a barn cat. Vulnerable and known.

“Hm,” Kozume says, voice so low Akaashi almost doesn’t hear him, “Where’s your team?” Akaashi knows Kozume from Nekoma is smarter than this. It’s obvious that Akaashi is alone, obvious he’s hiding. He doesn’t say anything though, just narrows his eyes as he looks at Kozume, who looks at him pointedly. The silence between them is somehow loud, as if all of the crickets have started singing all at once, as if every night bird has chimed in. Kozume from Nekoma exhales.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” he says, his voice one flat tone, and he pushes past Akaashi into the night, phone in hand.

* * *

Akaashi turns the page of his book, and the door behind him squeaks. He looks up. It’s Kenma’s cat, Paella, that has disrupted the door. She slinks across the room and makes herself comfortable by Akaashi’s feet, and he’s careful to keep his legs extra still as he leans forward to move a hand across her head. Akaashi has always been more of a dog person, but he makes an exception for Paella, or KodzuCat, as the fans call her. Kenma’s biggest schtick as an online persona is being private about even the most inconsequential details of his life. That includes his cat’s name. Whenever Paella has made an appearance in videos or streams, the chat has exploded, asking for the cat’s name. Kenma always just frowns, twists his face, goes _please, respect their privacy._

Since then, KodzuCat has garnered a bit of a cult following among Kenma’s fans. KodzuCat graces many a fan art, there are long-winded theories about KodzuCat’s name, and why it’s a secret, or if KodzoCat is even a cat and not some sort of alien beast trapped in a cat’s body. Or if it’s just that the name is too embarrassing to share. Kenma lets it continue and quietly stokes the fire. His last round of merch included a black baseball cap with a small stitched calico cat. The online store titled it KodzuCat-in-the-Hat.

“Come here,” Kenma says, and Akaashi looks up from where he’s rubbing his thumb across one of Paella’s ears. He walks over to Kenma’s set up and sets his palms on the desk, leaning forward to look at the computer monitor.

“Are you live?”

“Yes. Should I make this new room out of emeralds or diamonds? Chat is split.”

“You’re playing Minecraft?” Akaashi hasn’t seen Kenma play Minecraft in a while. He usually sticks to things in which he can win. Kenma has been playing on the same Minecraft world since the game came out, he’s long exhausted it.

“I’d say diamonds. Save the emeralds and make a place for your cat.”

Kenma turns to look at him.

“You say that like the cat doesn’t have her own wing. You don’t watch my videos, do you?”

“I don’t,” Akaashi says. He knows Kenma already knows this, knows he’s not actually offended. Kenma stares at him for a few more seconds before turning back to the monitor.

“Chat wants to know your name.” Akaashi glances at the chat. It’s moving fast, but he can make out the requests to know the identity of KodzuFriend. He’s been on Kenma’s live streams before, he’s honestly surprised none of the super fans have found his social media.

“Oh Sadaharu,” he says, after a few moments of thought. “That’s my name.” Kenma rolls his eyes.

“Okay, _Oh Sadaharu_.” Kenma says. Akaashi doesn’t return to the chair. Instead, he stays standing beside Kenma’s desk, his palms on the surface, leaning forward to watch, to comment dryly whenever Kenma makes a decision. He knows Kenma doesn’t mind, or at least, he’s aware that guests bring more people onto the stream. That’s what he’ll say, at least, if Akaashi asks him why he keeps him around.

* * *

The team isn’t bad. This is Fukurodani, after all. But Akaashi sets the ball to first-year Nakamura, and Nakamura is still figuring out Akaashi, and Akaashi still figuring out Nakamura. A swing and a miss, and Nakamura is apologizing as the new libero dives to recover the fumbled spike. Akaashi glances over his shoulder at the scoreboard. He can’t help but think about how last year, they had so many more wins at this point. How last year, the feeling of his fingertips on the ball was different.

“Sorry!” First-year Nakamura howls, “I should have gotten that!”

“Don’t apologize,” Akaashi says shortly, wiping sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, “It’s a practice match. We’re all learning.” But Akaashi doesn’t feel like he’s learning. He glances over at Onaga, who is talking to some of the others, his tone firm but strong, Akaashi thinks about that decision again. The duality of it. He's always torn between wishing he’d never made Onaga vice, and wishing Onaga was captain instead.

“Take a break,” Coach tells them, “Everyone. Twenty minutes, the other teams are going to too. Hydrate! It’s a scorcher out there.”

Akaashi calls them all to a meeting, glancing at Onaga as he does so.

“You’re all doing well,” he says, and he believes himself when he says it. They are working hard, he’s proud to see them working hard. But he can’t help but think _working hard for what?_ Last year, their goal was a championship. Their work was all about honing existing skills. So it’s a little demeaning that this year, the goal is getting those skills back.

Onaga pulls the other blocker aside, and Akaashi has a short meeting with the three hitters, all new to the job. He exchanges brief words with coach, grabs his water bottle, shoves his phone in his pocket, and ducks outside, not letting the fact that _it’s a scorcher out there_ stop him. The heat is violent, like a slap against his skin, and he walks around to the back of the gymnasium in search of shade. He rounds the corner but stops short.

Because Kozume from Nekoma has beaten him to it. Kozume is sitting, back against the wall, phone propped up on his knees. Akaashi pauses, unsure of what to do.

“I told you to get lost, Tora,” Kozume says, not looking away from the phone.

“Uh-" Akaashi starts, but decides midway through not to continue, that it’s best to leave Kozume to whatever he’s doing. But Kozume looks up from the phone, looking at his with the same focused expression that he had the night they’d run into each other outside.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

“Sorry, Kozume-san. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kozume makes a face, “It’s weird. You’re fine.”

Akaashi’s not really sure what he means by _you’re fine_. But Kozume is inhabiting the one sweet stretch of shade, so Akaashi takes a tentative step toward him. Kozume doesn’t protest, so Akaashi continues, stands beside Kozume, leans his back against the wall of the gymnasium, takes a long sip from his water bottle, wipes his hand across his forehead so the condensation and sweat mix together.

His phone is heavy in his pocket, he wonders why he didn’t do the smart thing and leave it inside. In a moment of weakness, he reaches into his pocket, takes it out, opens up messages, the group chat. There’s an ongoing conversation, which Akaashi skims, scrolling upward, and then he sees it.

 **Komi:** _How’s Captain Akaashi doing at training camp?_

 **Sarukuri:** _Lol why would he respond to you he’s prob busy_

 **Konoha:** _Akaashi how’s training camp_

 **Konoha:** _Akaashi how’s training camp_

 **Konoha:** _Akaashi how’s training camp_

 **Komi:** _lol stop that’s annoying_

 **Konoha:** _You’re the one who asked!_

 **Bokuto:** _obviously hes doing awesome!!!_

 **Bokuto:** _why wouldnt he be??_

Akaashi bites his lip. He looks down at the phone. Responding would mean answering the question. Ignoring it is the responsible thing to go. He’s focused on this team, not the one that’s graduated. But he’s tired of the feeling, setting the ball and wishing, wishing, that he had just one more year with them, and one more year after that, that his whole lifetime could be lived with that feeling he had when he played with them, when they won together, when it had felt like they were hurtling towards a destiny larger than themselves.

**Akaashi:** _Hi_

 **Bokuto:** _Akaaaaaaashi! u dont usually text during the day!!!!_

 **Akaashi:** _We’re taking a break._

 **Komi:** _yooooooooooooooooo_

 **Sarukuri:** _yoooooooooOOOOOOO_

****Konoha:** _yyyyooooooOOOOOOO_ **

**Washio:** _hi_

 **Konoha:** _washio say yo_

 **Washio:** _yo_

 **Konoha:** _that’s more like it_

 **Sarukuri:** _So how’s training camp???_

Akaashi looks down at the phone. Thumbs hovered to answer. But he doesn’t have a good one. What is he supposed to say? That he's not a good captain, that he shouldn't have made Onaga his vice, that Onaga should be captain instead, that he can't lead a team when he misses his old one, but can't miss his old one while leading a new one.

“Who you texting?”

Akaashi glances over at Kozume. He’s staring at Akaashi like he already knows the answer, like he’s privy to some sort of secret. Akaashi scowls. He’s not going to let Kozume intimidate him. And besides, he’s not the only one hiding.

“And who are you texting?” He says back to Kozume. It’s a well-delivered blow, because Kozume looks away from him, back at the phone.

“Point taken.”

Akaashi responds to Sarukuri’s question with “hot”. It’s the only thing he can think of to say. And it works, because the conversation takes off to different places as the other members reminisce, and Akaashi is content to smile, watch it unfold, to add something every so often.

“It’s different this year.”

Akaashi almost thinks he imagined it. When he looks up from the phone, Kozume is still staring straight ahead, not looking at him. He almost chalks it up to the heat, his mind playing tricks on him, but Kozume opens his mouth.

“You get it.”

Akaashi does get it. Because it’s not worse. He can’t find it within himself to call it worse, even though it might be. But it is different, and different feels synonymous with difficult. But not with worse.

“You and Kuroo-san were close, weren’t you”. Akaashi says it as he remembers it. He’s not particularly close with Kuroo, not in the same way that Bokuto was, but he feels a little stupid for not remembering that he and Kozume were close. Or rather, he feels a little stupid for not realizing that maybe Kozume is in a similar situation to him.

“No.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you and Hinata friends?”

Kozume shrugs.

“Yeah. But he doesn’t get it.” Kozume turns and looks at him, and Akaashi can see it written in his eyes.

_But you do._

* * *

Akaashi watches the interaction happen in three steps. First, he sees **NinjaShoyo** pop up in the livestream chat, full of exclamation marks. That’s the first step. Then, Kenma’s phone buzzes, a different tone than the sound it makes when Akaashi texts it, he knows, he texts Kenma from across the room quite often. That’s the second. He sees Kenma guide the Minecraft character to a safe position away from the water, and watches as his expression folds into a small smile. That’s the third. The transaction is swift, and it’s not much of a transaction. Hinata asks if they can play a game together. Kenma immediately agrees.

“Shouyou, I’m with Oh Sadaharu right now,” Kenma says once he and Hinata are connected.

“Oh? But isn’t that-“ Hinata is cut off by something, Akaashi hears him yelp, and then sputter “Ooooh! Oh! Sadaharu-san, check your phone!”

Akaashi doesn’t need to be told. He already has it on hand. And he’s got just about a million exclamation points, half from Hinata, the other half from Bokuto. He ignores the former for the latter.

**Bokuto:** _I see u!!!!!! hi!!!!!!_

Akaashi looks up from the phone, and waves in the direction of the camera. The chat is curious as to why. Neither Akaashi, Kenma nor Hinata give an answer.

 **Bokuto:** _I saw u waveee!!!!! Im with hinata hes really badddd at this!!!!!!_

 **Akaashi:** _If Hinata can see me too, that means he can cheat_

 **Bokuto:** _no im watching on ipad and hinata using computer its ok!!!!! but i can see both so i shouldnt say anythin_

Akaashi stares down at the phone. He’s pulled up a chair at this point to sit beside Kenma, watching as Kenma guns down opponents with practiced accuracy. It’s a confusing feeling, he thinks, he traces a finger across the length of Kenma’s desk.

It’s like they’re on two teams. Team Tokyo and Team Osaka. Two different sides of a screen. He remembers visiting Bokuto shortly after Hinata had moved back to Japan. How Bokuto had flopped back on the bed, hands crossed behind his head, and said _ya know, my teammates are so cool! But it’s nice that Hinata is here now, and that I see Kuroo a lot now that he’s got the fancy new promotion, ya know?”_ And he’d then turned to Akaashi, looked him dead in the eyes and said, _I think they kinda get what it’s like. ‘specially since Hinata was in Brazil, that’s so far!! ‘Keiji, if one of us was in Brazil, I think that’d be too far. Promise me you won’t go to Brazil?”_

Akaashi had laughed, moved a hand to run his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. _If anything_ , he’d said, _You’d be the one in Brazil. And I’d be here, waiting for you._

* * *

Akaashi sets the ball, this time to the first year spiker, he feels the texture of the ball against his fingertips. Feels the weight of the ball leave his hands, watches as it spirals over towards the first year spiker. The spiker jumps, going for the line shot, the ball is blocked easily by Nekoma.

“Sor-“ The first year goes to apologize but stops. They’ve talked about this as a team- they’re here to rebuild. They’re here to experiment. They’re here to lose and figure out why they lost. They’re here to build a winning team, not to be one already. They’re not here to apologize.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” Akaashi says, “Keep at it. Nekoma has a strong defense.”

Watching Kozume on the other side of the net is always a mind game. He makes little motions, plays so differently than other setters, than other players in general, Akaashi is almost more afraid of him than he is of the Karasuno setter. There’s a difference there. He looks at the Karasuno setter and sees everything he can never be. He looks at Kozume and sees something familiar reflected back. It’s no use trying to catch up to Kagayama. But with Kozume, every play is a mind game, a foot race, a scramble for superiority that only Akaashi seems to be paying attention to, only little things hinting that it’s more than one-sided.

Kozume sets the ball, Haiba moves to hit, but it’s Yamamoto who slams the ball down, a practiced efficiency, all three of them clearly know this play, they’ve done it before. The whistle blows. Akaashi looks behind him. Onaga has been cycled out, and so, Akaashi realizes, he’s the only one on the court who started the year before. He’s had this feeling before. But looking at Kozume on the other side of the net, him and Yamamoto and Haiba, his stomach turns. Jealousy is an ugly feeling, and it tangles itself into Akaashi’s jersey. He gulps.

“We’ll get this next one,” he says. He wishes he believed it.

They lose against Nekoma. Akaashi leads the team in laps, afterwards, he settles on the side of the gym to watch Karasuno go up against Ubugawa. His phone is in his bag, it’s not nearby, he’ll avoid the temptation this time. He takes a sip of water and feels something move next to him. He turns, and it’s Kozume, who sits down beside him without a word, not even a glance.

“You know,” Kozume says, after taking a long sip from his water bottle, “Quit feeling so sorry for yourself.”

Akaashi doesn’t know what to say to this. He opens his mouth to say that he’s not feeling sorry for himself. But he can’t bring himself to do it.

“You’re not a captain,” he says instead. It sounds meaner than he intended, and he’s relieved that Kozume doesn’t seem to flinch. Instead, he just narrows his eyes, in the way he’s been doing, he looks so much more intent now than he did when they were just playing.

“I know.” He says, “There are other captains, though. They lost their third years too.”

Akaashi looks around. Most of Nekoma is gathered in an opposite corner, leaning up against the wall watching from the Ubugawa side. Haiba and the other Nekoma spiker are standing over on the Karasuno side. The Fukurodani team is mostly gathered around the water cooler. Regardless, Akaashi brings his voice to a whisper.

“None of them lost a whole team.” Upon saying it, he doesn’t know why he’s being this honest with Kozume, of all people. It’s not like they’re friends. But at this point, it’s biting at him, and maybe Kozume is a good, impartial confidant.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Kozume says, looking ahead, Akaashi follows his gaze to where Hinata is chattering with one of the new Karasuno first years, “You’re captain.”

“They should have gone with someone else. I’m not very good at it.”

“That’s a lousy excuse.”

Akaashi blinks. It’s more brutal than he thought it would be. Kozume stands up as Hinata spikes the ball clean over the net. Kozume crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe if you stopped moping and started trying, you’d be good.” He pauses. “You still have your old friends, unless they all stopped talking to you which I would totally understand. Quit crying over them and do your job.”

He doesn’t really know what to say. It’s not advice he hasn’t heard before. He’s heard the same from the coaches. _It’s a new year. It’s a new team. Work with what you have here, it’s no use thinking about last year, focus on the now._ But Kozume’s delivery is more brutal than the coaches have ever been, packs a bit more punch, and, Akaashi realizes, it’s the first time he’s admitted that he wishes they’d chosen someone else for the job. He hasn’t said that to the coaches. He hasn’t said that to Bokuto.

“Isn't that a little hypocritical, Kozume-san?” Akaashi asks.

Kozume makes a face.

“Don’t call me that.”

* * *

It’s not clear to Akaashi when he decided to stay the night. Maybe, he thinks, he hadn’t decided until Kenma had offered it up. But as he lays out the spare futon, he thinks maybe he hadn’t ever planned on going home. That after a long week, he couldn’t bring himself to return to the empty apartment. Maybe he’d decided when he’d boarded the wrong train. Maybe he’d decided when he’d woken up that morning, called Bokuto as he ate breakfast, only ate breakfast because he talked to Bokuto, packed his things for work.

But Kenma offers it up, and Akaashi accepts. The exchange is more Kenma ending his stream and going, _you’re still here?_ As if they hadn’t been together all evening. As if this wasn’t a coping mechanism for both of them. As if they didn’t cling to each other like life rafts.

Kenma makes them instant noodles while Akaashi feeds KodzuCat. He knows, at this point, where Kenma keeps the cat food, and how much wet food Paella gets in her bowl each evening. Their relationship is a bartering system. Akaashi feeds Paella while Kenma is out of town. Kenma, in turn, waters Akaashi’s plants when he’s in Osaka.

“I’ll get you clothes,” Kenma says after they’re done with the noodles, and Akaashi is done washing their dishes in the sink. Akaashi nods. He lays out the spare futon while Kenma disappears, checking his phone. It’s gotten late, he’ll probably have to call Bokuto tomorrow instead. He lays out the futon, moving Paella out of the way.

“Here.”

Akaaashi swivels in time to catch the pile of clothes Kenma hurls at him. At least, he catches one piece, the other slaps against his shoulder. He’s a little surprised that Kenma offered up clothes so quickly. The two of them are vastly different sizes. But the shorts he’s now holding are nice, look like they’ll fit him. They’re from Bouncing Ball, he realizes, Kenma must have gotten a shipment in recently. He folds open the shirt and glares over at Kenma, who is leaning up against the wall and grinning.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Ok. Keep whatever that is on, then.”

Akaashi looks down at his collared work shirt.

“I know you have other clothing.”

“You’re being ungrateful. These are new. You’re the first to get one.”

“That’s because nobody wants them.”

Akaashi opens up the shirt again and holds it out in front of him to look at the whole thing. It’s a standard black t-shirt, but with a chibi-style caricature of one of Kenma’s online avatars, the words WORLD FAMOUS KODZUKEN written in large gradient letters around the drawing. It’s horrendous. Akaashi knows they’ll sell out quickly.

“You’re just jealous. Nobody’s ever going to buy anything with your ugly face on it.”

“Good. I can die peacefully.”

“Not in my living room, please.”

Akaashi changes into the shorts and the t-shirt. Somehow, it looks worse on. It doesn’t help that the shirt is a bit too big. He waits a few minutes to see if Kenma is going to re-emerge. He doesn’t. So Akaashi calls Bokuto, who is just going to sleep, they don’t talk for very long, they are two ships, passing in the night. Akaashi hangs up the phone and makes himself comfortable on the futon. The WORLD FAMOUS KODZUKEN shirt is very soft. If it weren’t so hideous, he’d keep it.

Kenma re-appears, changed into pajamas.

“Where were you?” Akaashi asks, like he doesn’t already know. Kenma frowns at him, eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowed, like those days in their third year of high school, scoping each other out, seeing how close they can get without getting bitten.

“How was Bokuto?” Kenma asks.

It’s the same trap every time. Akaashi always guesses wrong. Tonight, though, he thinks he knows the answer.

“How’s Kuroo-san?”

Kenma makes a face. Internally, Akaashi revels. He guessed the right late-night phone call recipient. It’s always a 50/50 shot.

They turn on the television, Kenma situates himself on the couch, and they both watch without really watching.

“You’d think it’d get easier,” Kenma mumbles, his whisper barely audible over the makeup commercial in the background. But Akaashi hears him. He’s been waiting for his voice.

He used to think that too. He used to wonder when it would get easier. He sometimes feels like he’s sold his twenties to the feeling of loneliness. That he’s spent up his youth waiting for people to return. He should be used to missing Bokuto by now. He’s been missing him since his graduation.

“I guess it just doesn’t.” He murmurs into the collar of the WORLD FAMOUS KODZUKEN t-shirt.

With that logic, Kenma should be used to missing Hinata. At least for Akaashi, there were trains, weekends, holidays, little spaces in the calendar, and a train track connecting him to Bokuto. For Kenma, there had been an ocean and two long years.

“I can deal with Shouyou,” Kenma whispers, “He’s always been far. But not Kuro.”

Akaashi exhales. Of course. Kuroo still technically lived in Tokyo, but his recent promotion didn’t make it seem that way. He seemed to do a pass of the country each week. When he wasn’t traveling he was in the office, and with the Olympics looming, he worked late nights and early mornings.

“What about when he graduated? You missed him then.”

“That’s different.”

Akaashi closes his eyes. He rubs his thumb across the sleeve of the KODZUKEN shirt. It’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep here. It won’t be the last. The feeling is always the same, uncertain, his heart a little jittery. Like it’s waiting up for someone.

* * *

It’s the last day when it clicks. When Akaashi sets the ball to first-year Nakamura and Nakamura hits it over the net. It’s not the first time that exactly has happened, Nakamura is a good player, Akaashi is a good player too. But it’s the first time that, as the ball leaves Akaashi’s fingertips, he knows what will happen. There’s no doubt. It’s become ingrained. All of the muscle memory paying off. He doesn’t even need to watch, just listen, as the ball slams onto the other side of the court, and Nakamura whoops. The whistle blows, and Akaashi looks over to see Nakamura grinning.

“Good job,” he says.

He can feel eyes staring into his back, boring holes right underneath his shoulder blades. He knows the feeling, but looks behind him regardless to see Kozume staring at him. Akaashi stares back.

“Let’s get this next one too,” one of the other third years says. Akaashi turns away, he can still feel Kozume’s eyes on him.

“Let’s get this next one too.” He echoes. Nakamura is chattering with one of the other first years, slapping hands, they turn eagerly towards the net, and Akaashi finds his mouth tugging into a small smile.

Afterward, they gather in a circle, the heat pouring in, they wipe the sweat off their foreheads and take long sips from their water bottles. Akaashi, not one for speeches, knows he has to say something. And since his talk with Kozume, he’s sort of been mulling. He’s aware that his conclusion isn’t what others wanted from him, but it’s a compromise. More of a justification to himself.

“I’m proud of our progress,” he says. “You’ve all been working hard.” He pauses.

“I think I have been a little unfair to you all,” he continues, “Bringing in new players is always a hard adjustment, this year especially as we graduated so many starters. But I haven’t been very adaptable” He takes a breath in.

“We came second in the country last year. That’s the farthest I am going to get.” He’s surprised that this stings, coming out, but it frees something, he looks at Nakamura standing next to some of the other first years. “My senpais left me this job. And they left me with the knowledge of what a winning team looks like. And I will do all that I can to give that knowledge to you, so you can give it to your kohais, so when the time is right, Fukurodani can finish the job.” He looks up from his hands to make eye contact with Onaga. Onaga meets his gaze and nods.

“Great speech!” One of the second years says, and the circle breaks, Akaashi hangs back with Onaga and the coaches. He watches the backs of the first years as they all bunch together. There are five of them. When they’re third years, maybe they’ll all be starters. With Anahori graduated, maybe they’ll have a second-year setter. Maybe it’ll be them, maybe all of this was for them. A wheel that keeps turning.

“Thank you,” Onaga says. He holds out a sideways fist, and Akaashi bumps his knuckles into his. It’s been their gesture, theirs alone, one invented last year on long bus rides, Akaashi’s olive branch to Onaga, the only other underclassman. A symbol of solidarity.

“Yo.” Akaashi turns. Kozume is standing behind him.

“Yes, Kozume-san?”

Kozume makes a face.

“Fukunaga wants you. Some captain thing.” He says. “And it’s _Kenma_.”

* * *

Two weeks later, when Udai hears Akaashi is going to the game, he invites himself along. Akaashi sometimes regrets taking him to Sendai that one time, it made Udai think they were friends. Which they might be, but Akaashi is reluctant to admit it. He and Udai meet Kenma at the entrance to the stadium, they’re soon joined by Onaga. Akaashi extends a sideways fist, Onaga bumps his knuckles into Akaashi’s. He’s the only one from Fukurodani who can make it today. Komi is shooting, Washio has a game, Konoha and Saru are watching from a bar.

The four of them enter, and it strikes Akaashi that he is their common denominator. They wouldn’t all be here if they didn’t individually know him. It feels like they’re each from a separate stage. Onaga who he leaned on in high school. Kenma who he leaned on through college. Udai who he works with as an adult.

He’s built himself a good team, and he hadn’t even realized it.

Udai and Onaga go to sit down, and Kenma follows Akaashi to get onigiri. He exchanges words with the Miya who runs the onigiri booth, Akaashi is always amused to see him at the games. Chasing his brother across the country. He thinks that this Miya gets it too.

“Whoa, Akaashi-san?” Akaashi looks up from where he’s leaving the onigiri line and finds himself face to face with Nakamura from Fukurodani. First-year Nakamura. He’s not a first-year any more, though, he’s taller than Akaashi remembers, his once cropped hair now longer, covering his ears and ending around his chin.

“Nakamura-kun,” Akaashi says. There’s an odd assortment of emotions, a pang of nostalgia, maybe a little bit of pride.

“Wait. . .” Nakamura’s gaze is now fixed on Kenma, and Kenma recoils. He’s wearing a baseball cap, his hair is tied back, he looks inconspicuous. But all the same, Akaashi always forgets that Kenma has somewhat of a celebrity status. At big events, he’s bound to get recognized.

“You’re the old setter from Nekoma!” Nakamura says, and Kenma looks over at Akaashi, and Akaashi at Kenma. They stare at each other, Kenma’s eyes swimming with relief and a little amusement.

“That’s me,” Kenma says. “Nekoma setter.”

“That’s so funny! You two are friends? Who would have thought!” Nakamura laughs. “It’s good to see you, Akaashi-san! I’m here with some teammates, they don’t believe I played with Bokuto in high school!”

Akaashi smiles. Bokuto had stopped in a few times Akaashi’s third year, the first years had always been eager to play against him.

“You play in college?” Akaashi asks, and Nakamura nods.

“Yup!” His phone chimes, and he looks down at it. “Oh, I have to get back. Is your number still the same, Akaashi-san? I’ll text you!” He turns to leave, waving over his shoulder.

Nakamura’s third year, Fukurodani had gotten to the finals again. They’d lost. Akaashi and Onaga had gone to the game. They’d sat together, watched from above, Akaashi felt like he was reliving his second year. The smell of sweat and the gymnasium air, and screeching of shoes on the newly-waxed floors, Onaga at his side, it all came rushing back. But even as the last whistle had blown, and the Fukurodani team left the court, all Akaashi could think was _I’m so proud of you all_. He watched the setter, a second year, follow the team out.

“Nakamura-kun!” Akaashi calls, and Nakamura stops short.

“Yes?”

“Who was captain the year after you?”

“Oh,” Nakamura says, “Remember the setter from my third year? He was a year below me.”

Akaashi smiles.

Kuroo joins them briefly during the game, but is whisked off for work. The Jackals win, because Bokuto had promised they would. After the game, Akaashi leads the group to the side door, where security lets him in. He’s done this before. He’ll do this again.

Bokuto, now showered and dressed in his normal clothes, folds Akaashi into an enthusiastic hug, and the days of waiting are worth it. He lets Akaashi go, starts chattering with Kenma, Onaga and Udai. Akaashi notices he’s wearing a baseball cap over his down hair, black, with a small stitched calico cat on it. They’re soon joined by Sakusa, Miya, and Hinata. Team Tokyo and Team Osaka. Now in one hallway. Akaashi feels his phone heavy in his pocket.

“Oh, Bokuto-san,” he says, “Hold on.” He scrolls through his phone contacts and calls the number. Nakamura answers quickly. The rest of the group heads out to the restaurant, and to find Kuroo, while Akaashi, Bokuto, and Onaga detour to where Nakamura is waiting with his team.

They all greet Bokuto enthusiastically, Nakamura puffing out his chest as if saying _I told you so_. Onaga and Akaashi hang back while Bokuto signs stuff for them, while the group of them laughs together, a few of Nakamura’s teammates take selfies with Bokuto.

“We should get a picture,” Onaga says, “The four of us.” One of Nakamura’s teammates takes it on Akaashi’s phone. He has the best camera out of the four of them. He makes sure to unlock it first, so they don’t see his lock screen, the photo of him and Bokuto at the Olympics. The home screen is a picture of Paella. Akaashi takes the phone back and sends the photo in the group chat. Him, Bokuto, Onaga, and Nakamura, arms slung around each other, beaming. They wave goodbye to Nakamura and his team, and Akaashi feels Bokuto reach for his hand. Akaashi accepts, lacing their fingers together. Onaga rolls his eyes.

At the restaurant, Kenma has already ordered. They get there just as the food is being set out. Akaashi leans against Bokuto’s shoulder, their fingers laced together between them, he talks pleasantly with Sakusa, who he’s come to like, and is talked to by Setter Miya, who he’s not sure he ever will. Hinata is laughing, Kenma is smiling, Kuroo leans into the table and Akaashi inhales. The smell of the food, the flicker of the lights, the warm restaurant air. He makes eye contact with Kenma over the table. Kenma stares at him, Akaashi stares back. They’ve been communicating like this since high school, he wonders when, if, they’ll ever stop.

_This is what we’ll be missing,_ he thinks.

He knows Kenma thinks it too.

But for now, he helps himself to more food.

It’s the only thing to do.

* * *

The last night at training camp, Akaashi slips out to find Kozume waiting for him.

“I knew it,” Kozume says.

“Shut up,” Akaashi says back. He’s not sure if he likes Kozume from Nekoma that much. He always seems to be scheming.

But, with the addition of Kozume, he doesn’t run. He doesn’t think Kozume would be able to keep up, or would attempt to keep up in the first place. Instead, they sit together on the front steps of the building. Akaashi texts with Bokuto. Kozume, Akaashi assumes, texts with Kuroo.

“What are we doing,” Akaashi mumbles, looking up at the sky. There are few clouds, and few lights, so the stars beam bright, a dark tapestry, so much more visible than they ever are in Tokyo.

Kozume shrugs.

“I miss Kuro.”

Akaashi knew that, but he still feels like Kozume is letting him in on a secret.

He misses a lot of things. He misses the old team and feels bad for missing them. But at some point, maybe when his fingertips had left the ball earlier, setting to Nakaura, something had shifted. It was an odd tangle, to miss something yet at the same time like what it had been replaced with.

“I don’t think I should like being captain,” Akaashi murmurs, head tilted up, staring at the stars. He doubts Kozume understands this, Akaashi barely understands it himself, it’s a new feeling. He knows that he misses last year. He doesn’t know how to feel about enjoying this year. Doesn’t know how those two feelings can coexist. But Kozume nods.

“I know.” Kozume sighs. “I miss Kuro. But I guess there are some good new things too.” He stares at Akaashi, and Akaashi looks back at him. Kozume’s words are direct, they hit. Akaashi wonders if the implication is what he thinks. If Akaashi is one of these new good things.

“What’s even the point, if there aren’t new good things?” Kozume continues.

Akaashi nods. It makes sense. And he thinks, for a moment, maybe, Kozume from Nekoma is a new good thing. If he hadn’t been missing his old teammates, if Kozume hadn’t been missing his, they probably wouldn’t have spoken like this. Kozume wouldn't have hunted him down.

The hot air all of a sudden felt lighter. It was easier to breathe. And Kozume understands Akaashi, and Akaashi understands him.

“Kenmaaa!” Kozume looks up, and Akaashi swivels around, and the door behind them flings open. Hinata from Karasuno stands in the threshold, followed by Haiba and, much to Akaashi's suprise, Nakamura. Hinata stops, eyes wide, looking down at them.

“Oh,” He says, “Sorry, were you guys talking? We’re looking for more people for cards! But we can leave!”

“No, it’s alright,” Akaashi says. He stands up and extends a hand to Kozume, who accepts, Akaashi hauls him to his feet. “We’ll play.”

“Seriously? Great! I’ll go tell Bakageyama!” Hinata spins, and is off, Haiba running after him, Nakamura turns, waves, and runs after them too. Akaashi laughs.

“Sorry, Kozume-san,” he says, “I guess I accepted for you.”

Kozume glares at him.

“I told you,” he says, “It’s _Kenma_.” He pauses. “And it’s alright, I want to play.”

Akaashi shoves his hands in his pockets. He can feel his hand brush up against his phone. He ignores it. Kozume holds the door open for him, Akaashi crosses the threshold. Now he is inside, now he is Captain Akaashi, but that, he thinks, may not be entirely a bad thing.

“Thanks, Kenma,” He says.

Kenma nods.

And they go inside together.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea that these two become friends in their third year. They find themselves in similar situations, and their loved ones love each other, so it just makes sense! 
> 
> I chose not to specify exactly Kenma's relationships with Hinata and Kuroo. I think either can be read as romantic, or not. Up to you. 
> 
> Oh Sadaharu is a famous Japanese baseball player. Akaashi referring to himself as that name on Kenma's stream would be like calling himself Babe Ruth. I don't think Akaashi would want the Kodzuken stans stalking him on social media lol, so he gives obviously fake names. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this far :) Let me know what you thought!!


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